REVIEW: Limited Time Only Sloppy Joe Pringles

What is and is not truly American food is a great debate, but there are some things you just can’t argue.

One such United States staple is the Sloppy Joe, aka Toasted Deviled Sandwiches aka Chopped Meat Sandwiches aka A Loose Meat Sandwich aka my mom was feeling kinda lazy tonight. The Sloppy Joe is a staple of any good American household, marrying ground beef, onions, and classic condiments like ketchup into one sauteed pan of sloppy goodness that gets slop-plopped right on top of a hamburger bun.

On the cusp of celebrating America’s annual Independence Day, Pringles has taken its often experimental seasonal offerings to new patriotic heights with the Walgreens-exclusive Sloppy Joe-flavored crisps.

In short, they taste like meat and potatoes. The first flavor is the distinct taste of ground beef followed by tomato and then the usual Pringles potato. Sloppy Joe’s are like a burger with all of the fixins’ mixed in where the individual notes get a bit blurred, and these chips reflect that. They’re kind of meaty and herbaceous with hints of onion but never really jump out with anything special or memorable.

These remind me of Pringles’ Cheeseburger flavor without the acidic pickle pop. As I continue to eat them I keep anticipating that extra dill zing and it never comes, which disappointing. It actually tastes like it took that seasoning and removed all of the great McDonald’s-y kick. When I think of a Sloppy Joe, I think of a more pronounced sweetness. While the tomato sweetness is there, I’m missing the layer of brown sugar or vinegar I want.

Another key component that seems to be missing is Worcestershire sauce, which is fundamental to any great Sloppy Joe. The sweet and salty sauce made with anchovies brings a layer of depth that’s missing here. They aren’t sweet like BBQ or spicy like Jalapeno or complex like Salt and Vinegar, and ultimately aren’t that exciting for a brand that puts out some wild flavors.

While Pringles tend to deliver on the flavors it promises, like the magic in its Ketchup chips, or the oddly accurate Kickin’ Chicken Taco, the Sloppy Joe lacks the American spirit that makes the sandwich such a great and simple pleasure.